


Getting There

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, rocky relationship, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Mulder and Scully search a carnival for a missing person and find themselves hashing out some lingering doubts post-One Son.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 13
Kudos: 81





	Getting There

Bright lights. Beeping, hissing, clanging, sirens. Screams that ebb and flow. The smell of deep fried food everywhere. Sawdust and straw underfoot.

“Remind me again why we’re here,” Scully says.

“12-year old Faye Rawlings,” Mulder answers, holding up the 3x5 school picture-day photo cupped in his hand and scanning the crowd for a blonde little girl with a pixie cut and explosion of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. “Disappeared in 1977 at the Oklahoma state fair. She went into the fun house with her 9-year old brother, Tommy, and never came out. Tommy claims he was separated from his sister in the hall of mirrors and that one minute he was holding her hand and the next, Faye was gone from his side, but she was still in the reflections of all the mirrors. The local authorities classified it as a kidnapping, but the case has been cold since she first went missing 20 years ago.”

Scully scans the crowd along with Mulder and pivots several times for a 360 degree view. She holds up an identical photo to the one Mulder has, drops it again and gives an impatient sigh.

“And what’s your interest in this case?” she asks. “We’ve had the x-files back for barely a month and this is not an x-file.”

“Sure it is. Missing 12-year olds don’t go popping up 20 years later at traveling carnivals.”

“32, Mulder. She’d be 32-years old by now.”

“I know. That’s what makes it so weird that nine witnesses have reported spotting  _ 12-year old _ Faye Rawlings in the last three months.”

“Is your theory alien abduction?”

“I don’t have a theory. Yet.”

“I still don’t believe it’s an x-file. Someone is simply playing a cruel prank.”

“Nine separate witnesses, Scully. The first in Broken Arrow, the last in Enid. The only thing they have in common is that they were all reported at this traveling carnival.”

“Mulder, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that while finding Faye Rawlings isn’t outside the realm of possibility, finding a 12-year old Faye Rawlings stands contrary to reason.”

“That’s what we’re in Lawton to find out.”

Scully sighs again and Mulder moves off towards the concessions area. He flashes his badge and the photo of Faye at the vendors, but receives a shake of the head in response when he asks if anyone has seen this girl. It’s a no from the hot dog cookers, the cotton candy spinners, the candy apple dippers, the pretzel salters, the churro fryers, and the corn-on-the-cob roasters. Moving on, it’s the same no sir, haven’t seen her, sir, from the barkers trying to entice customers into ring tosses, popping balloons with darts, throwing ping pong balls into tiny glass fish bowls, or shooting jets of water into clowns’ mouths.

“Where’s the Fun House?” Mulder asks, trying to peer through the chaos of bummer cars, Tilt-a-Whirls, and carousels.

“Left?” Scully asks, pointing towards a row of string lights at the top of a wooden building.

They head left through narrow, but well-trodden paths created by the haphazard barriers from ride to ride. No matter where they zig-zag, they can’t escape the constant assault of organ grinder music and screaming children.

“It’s the Tunnel of Love,” Mulder says, stopping in front of the building with the string lights.

“The other end.” Scully points to the right where another building stands.

“Try here first so we don’t have to backtrack.”

They wait in the short line, standing out like sore thumbs amongst giggly teenagers holding hands. A wave of nostalgia comes over Scully and she catches herself smiling a little wistfully as she remembers summer nights at the fair with friends from high school. Mulder bumps his elbow into her arm a few times and gives her a quizzical look. She lets the smile fade and shakes her head a little. They keep moving forward until they’re the next in line.

“Eight tickets,” the operator says. He’s tall and skinny with dark, greasy hair that he flips out of his eyes every so often. He’s also barely older than the giggly teens he’s been shepherding two at a time into the tiny red boats.

Even though Mulder already has his badge out, he still produces a roll of tickets and hands them over to the operator. “Agents Mulder and Scully,” he tells the kid. “We’re investigating a missing persons matter. Have you seen this girl?”

“I see a lot of girls, man.”

“Could you take a look?”

“Never seen her.”

“You didn’t even look.”

“In or out, man? Gotta keep the line moving.”

“Come on, Mulder.” Scully tugs at the elbow of Mulder’s suit jacket.

“Thanks for your help,” Mulder answers with thinly veiled sarcasm. To Scully’s surprise, instead of moving towards the exit gate, he ushers her towards the tiny red boat.

“Mulder?”

“Get in.”

Confused, Scully steps into the boat and sits down. Mulder squeezes in beside her. The operator drops a bar across their laps and gives it a yank.

“Hands and arms inside the boat at all times,” he says.

The boat jerks forward towards a heart-shaped entrance into a tunnel and then they’re submerged in darkness. They float along slowly and twinkle lights begin to blink in the ceiling and walls.

“What are we looking for?” Scully asks, dropping her voice when it echoes loudly in the darkness.

“Nothing,” Mulder answers. “Didn’t want to waste tickets.”

She shifts uncomfortably. As small in stature as she is, she still feels oversized in this small boat, wedged in so tightly next to Mulder. He shifts as well and then stretches his arm along the back of the boat behind her shoulders. The boat jerks to the side as they take a curve and jostles them into each other. Reflexively, Mulder grabs onto her arm and pulls her close. Reflexively, she tries to grab something to steady herself, which happens to be his thigh. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, letting go so quickly that she falls deeper into his side. He merely squeezes her shoulder.

As the ride continues, Scully becomes more and more uncomfortable to the point of feeling flustered and angry without exactly knowing why. She just knows she can’t wait to get out of the boat and get away from Mulder. And suddenly, she thinks, wouldn’t he much rather be in here in the dark with Agent Fowley? And she knows exactly why she’s flustered and angry.

Finally, they emerge from the tunnel back to where they started and the bar across their laps pops up before they come to a stop. Mulder lumbars out of the boat and turns to take her hand, which she ignores and steps out on her own. He furrows his brows a little and then follows behind her as she tries not to stomp down the metal ramp to the exit in her haste to leave.

They head to the Fun House without a word. There is no line there, just a mother and father with three small children trying to make it past the large, slowly spinning barrel into the rest of the attraction. The kids are laughing and falling all over themselves trying to keep standing as long as possible as the barrel inches them higher.

Mulder breaks off the appropriate number of tickets from his roll and slides them under the glass partition to the ticket taker. She barely looks up from the book she’s reading and he begrudgingly flashes his badge and the photo of Faye Rawlings. She looks up, annoyed, and shakes her head before going back to her book.

They both walk through the spinning barrel quickly with little effort, although Mulder does keep his hand at Scully’s back. He takes her hand as they meander through dozens of hanging punching bags. She tries to pull away, but he holds tight.

“Don’t want to get separated,” he says.

“Why, Mulder? You afraid I’ll disappear?”

He comes to an abrupt stop and she bumps into him. He glances down at her, purses his lips slightly, and then slowly relaxes his grip on her hand and lets go. “Can we just stick together, please?” he asks.

“I’m here aren’t I?” 

“Barely,” he mutters and then moves off without her towards an undulating suspension bridge.

Scully is forced to hold onto both sides of the railing as she tries to make her way across the bridge as it tips and tilts from left to right. There’s a doorway at the other side that leads into the hall of mirrors. Mulder is waiting for her at the entrance. They walk past the line of distortion mirrors that make them wide or tall, squat and elongated in all sort of ways, directly into the maze.

They head left and hit an immediate dead end with Mulder bumping into a mirror. They head right and Scully bumps into a mirror as well. They shift again, going forward, slipping along angled corridors with their infinite selves in front or to the sides of them at all times.

Scully hears the laughter of a small child and turns around, but sees nothing. Mulder turns as well and a thousand Mulders turn with him, looking over her shoulder She catches his eyes in the mirror and looks away, but she can still see him. Everywhere she looks, she can see him, watching her from hundreds of different angles. She feels overwhelmed and exposed. 

Taking a deep breath, Scully closes her eyes for a moment and when she opens them, Mulder is gone. A panicky, sick feeling comes over her and she whirls around to where he’d just been standing behind her. When she moves left, she bumps into a mirror. When she moves right, she bumps into another. Her heart starts to pound and she holds her arms out, searching for open space.

“Mulder!” she calls.

She hears the child’s laughter again and when she turns around, this time a blonde little girl with a pixie haircut crosses in front of her. “Mulder!” she calls out again. When she turns, the little girl is in front of her, staring directly at her. She reaches out to her and moves forward only to bump into a mirror. When she steps back, she’s alone again.

“Faye?” She turns in all directions, searching. She whirls and whirls, but there’s no one but her and then she feels a hand at her wrist and she gasps.

“This way,” Mulder says, tugging her with him to the right.

“Mulder, did you…?”

“What is it?” He glances back at her, but doesn’t stop moving her through the twists and turns of the maze.

“I thought I saw…” 

“What did you see?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

They exit out of the mirrors to a set of stairs, half the steps on one side, half on the other. Both sides move up and down in opposite ways. When the footholds on the right move up, the footholds on the left move down and vice versa. Mulder grabs onto the rails and heads up with ease. Scully, still a little shaky from the mirrors, takes a little longer to climb up.

They move through an alley of spinning floor tiles and have to push through more punching bags until they come to a platform overlooking the entirety of the carnival. They stand together at the ledge, silently watching from above.

“What did you mean when you said I was barely here?” she asks.

Mulder takes his time answering. He stares out at the carnival and then he finally turns and looks at her. “You’re here physically,” he says. “You show up. You do your job. I’m just not sure you’re altogether present. I’m not sure you want to be back on the x-files.”

“How can you say that? Mulder, how can you say that after everything we’ve been through to get them back?”

Mulder holds up his hand in defense and shakes his head. “Correction. I’m not sure you want to be back on the x-files  _ with me _ .”

“Oh.” Scully looks away and out at the blinking lights and activity below.

“I notice you’re not disagreeing with me on that front.”

“I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“I wouldn’t blame you. But, if you don’t trust me-”

“Dammit, Mulder, why is it always about whether or not  _ I _ trust  _ you _ ? What if the problem is  _ you _ not trusting  _ me _ ?”

“Of course I trust you.”

“No, you don’t. You trust Agent Fowley, but you don’t trust me.”

“I thought we were past this.”

“Apparently we’re not.”

Mulder grips the railing tightly and hunches his body as he lowers his head. He stands up again after a few moments and blows air from his puffed cheeks.

“Would you rather have her as your partner?” Scully asks. She’s been terrified to find out the answer to this question and so she’s been avoiding asking it, but it feels like a breaking point.

“Diana is gone.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” 

Scully turns and walks away from the platform. She balls her hands into fists and shakes the tension out of her shoulders as she crosses the final gauntlet of rollers across the floor. Without stopping to check on Mulder or wait for him to catch up, she crouches down and pulls herself into the spiral slide and lands on the mat at the bottom.

Standing with her back to the exit and her arms crossed, Scully waits for Mulder to come out. A little boy and a little girl tumble out of the slide together before he does. He pats dust from his knees and then they wordlessly walk away. They head down a street of games promising oversized teddy bears for guessing the weight of an object or being able to ring a bell with the strength of the swing of a sledgehammer. There’s a magic booth and a dunk tank. Mulder diligently holds up the photo of Faye Rawlings at each station with no success.

They reach the small tent of Madam Zarina, Fortunes Told and Read. An older woman with black, curly hair and olive skin sits outside. She’s wearing silk scarves and a long, flowing skirt and gold hoop earrings and Scully thinks she looks the epitome of a cliche.

“Would you be Madam Zarina?” Mulder asks the woman, pulling his badge out of his pocket.

“I am Madam Zarina,” she answers. 

“We’re looking for a missing girl.”

“Come, come,” Madam Zarina beckons, pulling back the beaded curtain into her tent. “I have something to tell you.”

“Ma’am my name is Agent Mulder, this is my partner, Agent Scully.”

“This way,” she answers.

Mulder steps into the tent and Scully reluctantly follows. There are small bells attached to Madam Zarina’s skirt that tinkle lightly as she swishes past them to a small, round table covered with a blue cloth. In the center is a crystal ball and a stack of tarot cards.

Scully remembers her sister Melissa dragging her to a psychic once in Venice Beach. Melissa was a senior in high school at the time, eager to get out of the house, eager to start her life, and she was desperate for someone to tell her she was going to fulfill all her wildest dreams, which, at that time, had included being allowed to feather her hair like Farrah Fawcett which their father had expressly forbidden, wearing bellbottoms to school instead of her stuffy Catholic school uniform, backpacking through Europe as soon as she graduated, and becoming the next Sonny & Cher with her boyfriend, Todd. 

Melissa had excitedly plunked down a five dollar bill for the disappointing news that she was an unhappy girl that would never settle. Still, though, she had taken it as a sign that she needed to be in more control of her destiny and as a result, quit school a short time later and she and Todd jumped on a flight to Spain only to break up two weeks later and part ways at a hostel in Italy. Melissa was back in San Diego within a month, but she never regretted it, not for a minute. 

On that day, Melissa had also convinced Scully to reluctantly part with her hard-earned babysitting money and have her own reading done. And she hadn’t forgotten what the stern-looking woman with the cigarette hanging off her lip, dropping ashes onto the table every time she spoke, said to her. ‘You feel you are destined for greatness. But, you’ll never reach it unless you stand up for yourself. Don’t let anyone tell you what path to take.’ She’d remembered it when she was considering joining the FBI, but it had been a long time since she’d thought about it.

“Sit, sit,” Madam Zarina says, pointing to the two chairs in front of her.

“We’re with the FBI,” Mulder says, holding out his photo of Faye Rawlings. “I want to know if you’ve seen this little girl at all.”

“Are you sure that’s what you’ve come here for?”

“Pretty sure. Not much of a psychic, are you?” Mulder snorts, tucking his badge and the picture back into his breast pocket.

“I read fortunes, I don’t claim visions of the future.”

“What’s the difference?” Scully asks.

“You have a question, the cards will tell you the answers. I tell you what the cards say.”

“I don’t suppose you can activate that crystal ball there and let me show my photo to it, can you?” Mulder asks, flippantly.

Madam Zarina narrows her eyes a little and then with a flourish, removes her wig to reveal thinning, mousy brown hair. She drops the wig over the back of her chair and then pulls off her clip-on earrings as well.

“People like the show. They think a fortune teller is a gypsy, and that this is what a gypsy looks like. You think anyone wants their cards read by Phyllis Davidson from Stillwater, Kansas? Or the dark and mysterious Madam Zarina?”

“Sorry to have wasted your time,” Mulder answers.

“I’d like a reading,” Scully says.

Mulder turns to Scully with his brows raised. Scully ignores him and slips into one of the chairs. After a few moments of hesitation, Mulder sits in the other.

“Ten dollars,” Phyllis says.

Scully moves to get her wallet, but Mulder beats her to it and waves her hands away, slipping the bill over to the fortune teller. Phyllis folds the bill and slips it inside the front of her shirt, tucking it under her bra strap. She slides the stack of tarot cards over to Scully. They’re larger than playing cards, well-worn and soft. The cover is a faded navy blue background with gilded sun, stars, and moons printed on them.

“Shuffle the cards in whatever way you feel comfortable with,” Phyllis instructs. “When you’re finished, place them face-down here on the table. While you’re shuffling, think of what you’d like the cards to tell you. Is there something you’re fearful about? Is a relationship causing you trouble? Do you need career advice?”

“I’d like to know how to repair a fractured partnership,” Scully says, picking up the cards. “If it’s even salvageable.”

Phyllis nods and Scully shuffles. Mulder shifts uncomfortably in his chair. When Scully is done, she sets the cards down and takes a glance at Mulder. He is nervously stroking his mouth and chin.

“With your left hand, fan the cards across the table and then choose the first card from anywhere that feels right. Pull a total of five cards and give them to me.”

Scully does as she’s told and then slides a card out from the fanned pile. She hands it to Phyllis who positions it in front of her. She selects four more, giving each of them to the woman across the table, one by one, after she slides them out. The cards are ordered with three across, one at the top, and one at the bottom. Phyllis turns the card in the middle. It’s a colorful drawing that Scully can’t quite make out.

“The Page of Swords is telling me that you feel what you’re not getting right now is honesty. The truth is very important to you, something you value, and what you’d really like from your partner.”

Scully licks the curve of her upper lip, but says nothing. Beside her, Mulder begins to bounce his knee. Phyllis turns the card left of the middle.

“The Moon is telling me you feel you’ve been deceived in some way. You feel that what you once believed to be true was an illusion and that is keeping you from moving forward right now.”

Scully nods a little, unconsciously. Phyllis turns the card to the right.

“The Five of Cups.” Phyllis pauses and takes a glance at Scully. “In this instance, the card is reversed, which is a good sign. It means that whatever happens, you will be able to find forgiveness and acceptance, regardless of outcome.”

“What does that mean, regardless of outcome?” Mulder asks.

“Whether the partnership is repaired or if it remains fractured, she may grieve the loss of something that once was, but ultimately move on and be free of negativity.”

The fourth card Phyllis turns over is obvious the second Scully sees it.

“The Devil,” Phyllis says, shaking her head in dismay. “This reinforces the strong feelings you have about being deceived. Someone has driven a powerful wedge into your partnership. This person is inherently dishonest, not to be trusted. The root cause of how you feel and it appears as though you have every reason to be wary.”

Scully can’t help but feel disappointed with this answer. What it means to her is that as long as Diana Fowley is out there, the wedge between herself and Mulder will exist. Not that she needs a fortune teller to give her that information, but it makes it sink in just a little more.

“Oh,” Phyllis says, turning the last card. “This is good news. The Star. What The Star tells me here is that after the struggle is over, you will be left with a renewed sense of self and of faith. When you come out onto the other side of what’s currently making you feel so uncertain, you’re going to know yourself much better and enter a phase of calm, one that will be peaceful and loving. This is very good.”

Scully is relieved, almost pleased. She’s been so caught up in anger and turmoil lately that she couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel. Even though she really doesn’t believe in fortune telling, she still finds herself comforted by what she’s heard.

“Thank you, Phyllis,” Scully says, standing.

Phyllis sweeps the cards up and pulls them back together in a stack. Mulder stands as well and follows Scully through the curtain and out of the tent.

“Well,” he says. “That was certainly...interesting. You don’t actually believe in all that stuff back there, do you, Scully?”

“Of course not,” she says. “They see what people are interested in and then just tell them what they think we want to hear.”

“Is that...is that what you wanted to hear?”

Scully stops walking and Mulder stops as well. She looks up at him. The flashing lights of the Gravitron play across his face. The screams of thrill-seekers make it difficult to hear.

“What I want to hear isn’t going to come from a fortune teller,” she says.

“You want me to tell you that I choose you over Diana.”

“You make me sound like a jealous girlfriend.”

“You honesty, right, Scully? Sometimes, that’s how it feels.”

“Jesus, I don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of a carnival!”

“I don’t think you want to have it at all!”

“Mulder, mere weeks ago you wouldn’t even hear me out when I handed you proof that Agent Fowley did not have your best interests or the best interests of the x-files at heart. You refused to hear anything to the contrary.”

“Because you weren’t showing me proof of anything. All you had was conjecture.”

“I have plenty of proof, you’re just unwilling to connect the dots.”

“You’re seeing what you want to see.”

“Then tell me, Mulder, where is she now? She wasn’t amongst the bodies found at El Rico airforce base, so where is she? And where is the Cancerman? It doesn’t strike you as suspicious that they are the only two people unaccounted for after the massacre?”

“I don’t know where they are, but I know I’m not going to jump to any conclusions.”

“Then you’re just blind to what you don’t want to see.”

They seem to reach an impasse. Scully has said everything that needs to be said about Diana Fowley and she’s tired of even thinking about her. She looks away, puts her hands on her hips, licks her lips. People pass them by lost in their own excitement, paying them no mind. She’s embarrassed by the outburst, but feels less angry than she has been. She feels a little more melancholy also.

“I choose you,” Mulder says, brushing a knuckle lightly under her chin to get her to look at him. “I choose you, Scully. I want you here. I want you as my partner. I just don’t know how to make you believe it.”

“You can’t choose me and refuse to trust my judgment,” she answers, pulling her chin away. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“ _ We _ won’t work if you keep punishing me because I disagree with you about Diana.”

“You’re right.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

“I want…” Scully breaks off, unable to articulate what she really feels. She wants to know that her importance in Mulder’s life means as much to him as he does to her, but in this moment, she’s unwilling to make herself more vulnerable than she already has.

“Scully?”

“I just want to do the job,” she answers, lowering her gaze. “I want to get back on track with our work and I want us to be on the same page again.”

“Oh, is that all?” Mulder smiles a little, trying to catch her eye. “When exactly have we ever been on the same page to begin with? I’m always like, Scully, obviously Leprechauns have committed this crime, and you’re always like, Mulder, you’re crazy.”

Scully smiles a little in spite of herself and scuffs her boot into the sawdust at her feet. “Leprechauns don’t exist, Mulder.”

“See, there we go. Back on track already.”

Their problems aren’t going to be solved in one night, but at least they can put them aside to focus on the task at hand. That’s something she feels they can do. There is one more thing she feels like she needs to say, though. As Mulder starts to walk away, she grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“When we were in the Fun House, I thought I saw Faye Rawlings,” she says. “In the hall of mirrors.”

“You saw her?”

“I thought I did. And then when I looked again, she was gone.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I don’t know. Because I felt scared and foolish and I know my mind was just playing tricks on me. Because I don’t believe we’re going to find a 12-year old girl out here no matter how hard we look. And, I don’t think you do either.”

Mulder nods slightly. “I know it’s implausible, I just…”

“You want to hold on to that hope.”

He swallows and nods again.

“I know you, Mulder.”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah, I do.”

On the way out, Mulder gives the rest of his tickets to a little girl on her way in, holding the hand of what appears to be an older brother.

The End


End file.
